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On December 15 we surfaced from our subterranean basement home to “upstairs.” To windows. To light. To freshly sanded floors and open spaces. To a kitchen. And bedrooms. To trees and sunlight. Deer.

Turkeys. And birds. Lots of birds. We surfaced to sky and openness. To shadows and reflections on walls.

A lamp my mother made more than 50 years ago–

And now 12 days later most of the moving boxes are unloaded. Broken down and stacked against a wall outside. An ad is running in Craigslist, and soon they will be moving on. Ready to participate in someone else’s move.

I’m surprising myself right now. Mentioning boxes. Because initially I thought I’d just post a few images–make an effort to get back to the land of blog–I miss it–the conversation–and the longer I’m away, the harder it’s becoming to return. So to even mention boxes– I thought I was fed up with them–with their clunkiness, mass, heaviness. Fed up with their smell and the noise packing tape makes when pulled off their surface. Still–I’m sensing a germ of an idea here that needs to be explored. A metaphor that feels important. Boxes? What do they mean? When do they lose their value? When are they a tool and when are they a trap? How do we use them for compartmentalizing? For discriminating? For separating self from others? When do we open them? Air out the contents? Examine them to see if they still hold value? Or have simply become weights we lug around from habit? I could go on . . . .

But not now–later perhaps, or not. Because right now I need to look at a few images from the past weeks. The child’s sock–lost then found on the pavement outside of a home supply store–on a cold wet day in December….

And this–an old door…a very old door…long and heavy and perfect I thought for becoming a headboard. But because it was old and cracked it fell apart when I ripped it to the needed length. So a short project became a labor of determination–but after lots of glue, braces and wooden splints–here it is. Recycled. Sturdy. Functional.

part of the new living space–

And my work space? It overwhelms me.

This morning I realized my dousing crystal hasn’t surfaced. And because there was a question, I made one out of wooden beads. It has its own space now. With hawk wing. Hanging over the soon-to-be-consecrated work table.

Box update: the old ones are gone. Just picked up by a young woman moving to a horse farm in Madison County. And so it goes . . . .

My personal take on “light” is that some choose to be unhappy (and often with good reason, given the hand they’ve been dealt) and some choose to be happy in spite of it all
Light doesn’t exist if we close our eyes to it, but we can defeat darkness when we open ourselves to it

thanks julie! the floors were the last thing completed–we had to let them cure for 4 days before we could walk on them, but they are beautiful. old reclaimed oak barn wood. glad you appreciate them as well. i wonder about the barn. where it was. what it housed. whose it was. many stories in the floor.

don’t the Irish have lovely prayers–you know the one that goes something like “may the road rise up to meet you?” the native american way of saying “let the mountain carry you.” your presence means a lot to me. thanks for being here.

it is–holding us. gently and openly. i’m glad it took us so long to get moved in. there was a lot of stale, frustrated energy in the home–inherited from previous occupants. and i’m happy to say that all of the work and activity seems to have driven in out. clean slate.

How calm and clean your house looks! I, too, love the floors and the way they reflect the light. I really love the dining room…again, calm and welcoming. Congratulations on the move upstairs…2015 is really going to be a new beginning for you.

it is calm here. calm and peaceful–quiet–no street traffic. so unlike where we’ve lived for the past 4 years. and we did not know that it would be so fine. 2015 — like the house–a new time–where anything and everything might occur–or not. i look back. i look forward. but mostly i’m looking at right here. right now. that is my goal for now. so glad you are here.

How wonderful to be in your new upstairs space and perhaps all the more appreciated after the long wait and construction frustrations. Happy new year, Patricia. Looking forward to seeing what comes out of that workspace.